Affliction
by keem
Summary: Had I known this was coming, I would have stuck to lamenting the loss of Maria. Unrequited love is so much worse when the other person is still breathing.


**A/N:** I'll be the first to admit it – I like torturing Shadow. But let's face it, if he didn't have a reason to angst, well… he just wouldn't be _Shadow,_ right? Being wrought with despair and tragedy just goes hand-in-hand with his character. It makes him who he is. And well, I've decided to give him something else to cry about.

Perhaps I didn't take this topic as seriously as I could have. It wasn't originally supposed to be funny, but it kind of came out that way. (Well, his internal plight, anyway.) Still, try to keep a straight face when you're reading. This is a mood piece, I swear! And the mood is **dark.**

Rated 'T' because it mentions Amy and Shadow doing the mattress mambo. You've been warned.

---

make me feel again, slide across my skin again

let me undercover you, to rediscover you

(and i will open up, if you promise to let me in)

hoobastank

---

**affliction**

**---**

Amy's voice pierced the quiet darkness of the bedroom.

"Shadow, when you look at me… what do you see?"

The question took him by surprise. The black hedgehog was on his elbows above her, looking down upon Amy's lithe form tangled beneath the comforters. Her face was flushed, her bangs sweaty and plastered against her forehead, her mouth parted slightly in an 'o' shape as her breathing began to become more deep and even. "You're not talking in terms of appearance, are you?" he asked her with one perfectly arched eyebrow, rolling off of her so that she could better recover from the strain he had wrought upon her. 

"Well… not entirely," she admitted, pushing the drenched fall of fur out of her face. "But since we're on topic, you _do_ think I'm pretty, right?"

He would have laughed, if that was the sort of thing he did. The mere notion of her insecurity was absurd - if she wasn't pretty, he would not have bothered indulging in their little affair to begin with. Shadow was not the sort of person to do things of pity in order to spare one's feelings. He simply wasn't nice like that. 

In truth - although he would never offer the information outright - he thought was breathtakingly beautiful. Even in such a state of disarray, drenched in sweat and blushing, he found her to be simply entrancing. Her supple curves, the pink tourmaline hue of her fur, those brilliant emerald optics – everything about her was perfectly sculpted and arranged, an artist's masterpiece. There was no denying the physicality between them, the raw animal magnetism that drew them together so frequently. 

Not that he minded, because Amy Rose was alarmingly talented between the sheets. Shadow had never considered himself a wanton or lustful individual, but she had gotten him addicted to her touch. He had spent many restless nights without her, wondering when would be the next time she would drop in. That was another thing he liked about her – that she was bright and alive, spontaneous and mysterious – she didn't operate on a calendar, she didn't have a specific schedule to follow - she simply came and went as the mood carried her. The sheer randomness of her coming's and going's kept Shadow on his toes, kept him excited and enthralled – kept his attention. 

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was the fact that it went beyond just the physical aspect of it. He actually found Amy quite charming. Her mentality was admirable, to say the least. Her carefree, cheerful demeanor, her never-ending positivity – concepts which had been so abstract to him before – had also did a number on him—had helped make the infatuation complete. It was after truly getting to know Amy Rose as a person that he had finally succumbed to her seduction entirely. And suddenly, before he knew what had happened, she had infiltrated his defenses, making a place like that right near his heart, and completely without his permission. Love worked in funny ways like that.

"Is it really necessary to answer that?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "How am I supposed to know? Maybe you have really low standards."

"And maybe_ you _have really low self-esteem," he responded immediately. "Why else would you be fraternizing with the likes of me?"

She smiled at him weakly, and he could practically see her mind ticking and whirling inside her pretty little pink head, her thoughts thousands of miles away. _Or maybe it's because I look like him_, he thought, growing suddenly 

somber. _Maybe it's to drive the demons back, for one more night…__Sonic, you faker, must you always become between me and everything I desire?_

Ah, yes, Sonic. And so, the rivalry continued, having transcended the fight for world annihilation. Sonic, the thorn in his side in every respect – Sonic, who continued to plague him long after the battle had been finished. Could he ever escape the other hedgehog's shadow, could he ever be free? Even in his relationships he could not be rid himself from the blue hero's meddling. He was like an affliction, a barrier that became kept Shadow at a distance, unable to cross the threshold into Amy Rose's heart. 

Sonic was the elephant in the room. They rarely spoke of him, but he was always there, on the fringes of their thoughts. They both knew the real reason they were here – so that Amy could release some steam, to forget herself, to rid herself of Sonic's affliction. At first, Shadow had been more than happy to comply – after all, what was wrong with a little carnal desire between acquaintances? – but then eventually, Sonic had gotten to _him_ too. He was a sickness, a tangible ailment – and as Amy had unknowingly burrowed further into his heart, she had brought Sonic with her, carelessly allowing him to wreck havoc on Shadow's insides. Sonic brought poison wherever he went – and now he had brought it into Shadow's bedroom, into Shadow's heart. 

Because it was Sonic who kept him from what he wanted – it was Sonic was the one who kept her so close, and yet so far away at the same time, so untouchable. What torture – to feel the touch of her skin, to feel her warm body pressed against him, to become one with her, but never truly able to reach her. He would always be forced to view her from afar, to have a taste of what could and might be, but ultimately denied in the end - all because her heart belonged to some wretched dopple-ganger who would not give her a second thought.

"Do you think I'm a good person?" she asked him, stirring him free of his dark thoughts. "Am I nice? Do you like being around me?"

"Sure."

Amy shot him a look. "We're being a little sparse on the details, I see," she told him, a little irritably.

"Do you want me to compliment you or something?" Shadow asked her, feeling mildly defensive. What did she want from him? She knew that words were hard for him; that communication had never been something he had quite gotten the hang of. He could beat most people to a bloody pulp, incinerate structures in a single blast, transcend the boundaries of time and space – but when it came to _talking_, all coherent thought and ability had a tendency to abandon him outright. He often found himself stumbling over what he could say, wondering just how to properly convey his meaning. "… I think you're… nice, Amy. You're pretty, and you're funny, and you're intelligent, and I enjoy spending time with you. Happy, now?"

"Sorry, Shadow," she told him after he had finished, looking a little ashamed of herself. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot or anything. It's just… if I really am that personable, if I really am pretty and nice and pleasant to be around… then why doesn't he _like _me? Everybody else seems to."

_The better question is,_ Shadow thought darkly. _Is why are you wasting on your time on some asshole who wont even give you the time of day?_

"I think you dwell too much on these things, Amy," he said slowly. 

"Do you think he knows?" she asked excitedly. She sat up, seized with sudden excitement at the prospect as she whirled to face him. "Do you think he's jealous?"

_I doubt he even knows you're __**alive**_, was Shadow's honest answer, but looking up into Amy's hopeful face, he didn't have the heart to tell her. She was so bright and alive with the promise of green-eyed envy. It was almost disgusting to watch, and certainly painful.

_Maybe I'm doomed to have a cursed existence_, Shadow mused tiredly. _First Maria, now Amy… seems I'm just destined to be unhappy. In all my years, I never expected to be taken by storm an already love-struck teenager. Had I known this was coming, I would have stuck to lamenting the loss of Maria. Unrequited love is so much worse when the other person is still breathing. _

Maybe if he had been better with words, he could rid himself of this predicament. If he could somehow put his feelings into coherent sentences, maybe he could make her understand; maybe there would be a possibility that he could win her over, by making his feelings known. But in actuality, he feared her verbalized rejection more than anything else. He just didn't want to be alone anymore, and with Amy, he was no longer by himself, at least in a sense. Because at the end of the night, she was his, and they were one - in a detatched, purely physical sort of way. And, although he was loath to admit it, that was better than the alternative, which was nothing. 

"Maybe," Shadow said, and seeing her look of sickening glee that crossed her face, he decided to take her down a peg. "…But most likely not."

Amy's face fell. "You're probably right," she said, sighing and falling back against the pillows. "I adore him and everything, but Sonic _is_ pretty dense. I bet he hasn't even sensed anything out of the norm."

"Probably," Shadow said. 

"You know what, Shadow?" 

The other hedgehog frowned. "What?"

"Sometimes," she told him drearily, rolling onto her side so that her back was facing him, "being in love really sucks."

_If only you knew_, he thought. 


End file.
